


Love to Give

by KittyCargo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry Potter, D/s undertones, Drarryville, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Angst and Smut, Getting Together, HP Triad!Fest, Harry Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Sex, Smut, Triad - Freeform, auror injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyCargo/pseuds/KittyCargo
Summary: Neville and Harry are in a relationship when Draco moves back from Italy and needs a place to stay. Neville never knew how much love he had to give.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Comments: 59
Kudos: 480
Collections: HP Triad!Fest





	Love to Give

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Harry/Draco/Neville in their twenties, getting together, insecurity cause new to polyamory, flawed characters but respectful and trying to work it out, balancing each other out, all have jobs or at uni, auror!harry  
> Likes: Fluff with some angst
> 
> Shout out to my two incredible betas, Hufflebean and keyflight90! And thank you to our incredible mod who hosted this fest!

Neville was doing his very best to not glare as Malfoy moved the last of his stuff into their flat. Yes, he’d agreed with Harry that it was a pity Malfoy didn’t have somewhere to live since moving back from Italy, and then when Harry had looked at Neville with those big green eyes, somehow Neville had ended up agreeing that Malfoy could move in with them. He regretted it now.

It wasn’t that Malfoy had actually _done_ anything to make him regret it; it was more just the fact that he was there...in the space where Neville felt safe.

“I think that was the last box,” Harry huffed, shouldering the door open as he deposited a box and heaved a big sigh. Malfoy followed Harry, levitating the last of his boxes and looking thoroughly unrumpled. It made Neville sick. Malfoy’s sharp eyes raked Neville up and down, making him feel defensive that he hadn’t been moving boxes. Neville really had strained a muscle in his back in the greenhouse earlier that week, but if it had the added benefit of ticking Draco Malfoy off, it was hard to feel bad about it.

Neville knew Malfoy had changed since their school days. He knew Harry wouldn’t be friends with Malfoy if he hadn’t changed. Malfoy had apologized to him before he left for his potions mastery in Italy, and again before he had moved in. They’d gone to a muggle coffee shop and Malfoy had earnestly apologized. Neville believed he was truly sorry. Neville just wasn’t sure that he could forgive Malfoy.

It was different seeing Malfoy in person rather than hearing about him through letters to Harry. He’d only caught snippets of Malfoy’s life before, but that was no substitute for seeing him in person, golden from the Italian sunshine.

The three of them stood looking at each other for a moment, Malfoy uncertain and Harry both anxious and eager. Neville wasn’t sure what expression was on his own face.

“I’m going to start-”

“I might take a-”

Both he and Malfoy started speaking at once, then both paused; Harry’s head swiveled between the two of them.

Neville cleared his throat. “I’m going to start dinner. It’s spaghetti bol tonight.” He levelled Malfoy with a look, daring him to say something negative about the meal.

Malfoy seemed to quell at Neville’s glare. He swallowed, the Adam’s apple on his throat bobbing slightly before he mumbled something about a shower before fleeing. Neville couldn’t help but be pleased with the reaction.

 _Good. Don’t get too comfortable here,_ Neville thought unkindly.

Harry shot Neville a reproachful look, but stepped in close and wrapped his arms around Neville and tucked his face into Neville’s neck. Neville breathed him in, the smokey, woodsy scent.

“He knows about us, right?” Neville asked, feeling off-balance.

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it. I thought you were good with this?”

“I was! I am! I just...it’s different now that he’s here.”

“It _is_ different, but we’re just helping out a friend. Nothing has to change,” Harry reassured him. Neville wanted to complain that different meant change but he’d already agreed to it all and Malfoy really did need a place to stay. The Malfoys’ manor had been seized during the war, and Malfoy hadn’t started his new job as a potions master at St Mungo’s yet. Besides, it was just temporary. And Malfoy had changed.

Malfoy hadn’t changed. He appeared, overdressed, in a hazy fog of citrus, then spent the entire dinner making snide comments about how the _Italians_ make pasta fresh everyday, and how the _Italians_ make their sauce from scratch, and how an _Italian_ wine would pair best with this, then he snobbily went to his room and came back with a bottle, as if the bottle Harry had picked out wasn’t good enough. Neville reminded himself it was all temporary and kept his eyes on his plate and refused to admit that Malfoy’s wine was better, though he didn’t refuse the second glass that Malfoy poured for him.

After dinner, Harry began to collect dishes and Neville gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before slipping away to the shower himself. It shouldn’t have been such a shock, but it felt wrong to see Malfoy’s luxury hair products on the edge of the tub next to his and Harry’s sensible ones. He tried to let the hot water wash away the tension, but he could hear Malfoy in the kitchen, making Harry laugh. When Neville turned the water off, he could hear snippets of their conversation through the wall; a gentle back and forth about the “proper” way to wash a plate. 

Neville dried off, wrapped the towel loosely around his waist, and opened the door to Malfoy, fist raised to knock. Malfoy’s eyes traveled up and down Neville’s bare chest and stomach and he turned pink, then very determinedly made eye contact. Neville knew he wasn’t the fittest bloke, but Malfoy didn’t have to act so visibly disgusted by his body. He could hear the jeers from their school years and he just wanted to curl up and hide, protect all of his soft and vulnerable parts.

“What’d you want, Malfoy?”

“Um...would you perhaps fancy a cup of tea before bed?”

“Nope.” Neville popped the “P” and squeezed past Malfoy, towards his and Harry’s bedroom. He was going to shut the door, but Malfoy was still standing expectantly in the hall.

“Oh, alright...well...I suppose this is good night then?”

“Yep.” Another pop.

“Well...good night?”

“Night.” Neville closed the door in Malfoy’s face.

Any joy he felt at literally shutting Malfoy out was robbed by the fact that he would’ve actually loved a cup of tea before bed, and the bed was empty beside him. He sat in the cold bed alone, reading the most recent journal of _Annals of Herbology_ by the light of the lamp on his side. He was just getting really into an article about how the root flavonoids of an invasive muggle tree impacted the growth of wizarding plants in the same area when the door gently opened and Harry slipped inside.

“Hey.” Harry’s smile was soft and melted the tight ball of tension inside of Neville.

“Hey.” 

“I brought you tea,” Harry held out a warm mug and Neville knew everything was going to be okay. They were still Neville and Harry; they’d survived lonely childhoods and a war — Draco Malfoy wasn’t going to break them.

Harry padded over to the bed, quiet footsteps that sometimes made Neville’s heart ache for the tiny, scrawny Harry that used to sneak out of a cupboard to scrounge for food that wouldn’t be missed. Neville lifted the covers, and Harry slipped under. Neville flinched when Harry pressed his cold feet against Neville’s warm calves, but they settled in and Neville drank his tea and finished reading his article as Harry flipped through a broom magazine.

Harry looked up as Neville set his mug aside. “I like having him here. We’re friends, as unlikely as that might have once seemed, and it’s fun to have my friend here. But you come first. You’re my boyfriend, my partner. If Malfoy needs to figure something else out, he’ll figure something else out.”

They’d had this conversation already, months ago, when it was first suggested that Malfoy might take their guest bedroom that typically only saw use when Dean and Seamus were too drunk to apparate, but Neville had needed to hear it again. He took a breath, and finally relaxed for the first time all day.

“He doesn’t need to figure something else out. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. It’s just an…adjustment. He’s very...judgy.”

“Judgy?” Harry echoed, incredulous.

“Oh, surely you noticed him at dinner! ‘The Italians make much better food than this slop! My Italian wine is much better than this swill!’”

Harry laughed. “He was trying to connect with you! He knows you’re interested in cooking and was trying to discuss it with you! He was _sharing_ the wine!”

Neville pondered this, and could see how it might’ve been an attempt at friendship he’d been too hard-hearted to see, but it didn’t explain how disgusted Malfoy had been about seeing Neville in a towel. That was too personal to tell Harry though. Harry wouldn’t understand the way that Malfoy’s schoolboy taunts had marked his heart the same way that stretch marks marked his skin. Harry didn’t see how revolted Malfoy had been to even _look_ at Neville’s soft, pudgy body. Harry was toned muscle, fit perfection and battle-ready to protect and defend the wizarding public and Neville couldn’t explain it all to Harry.

He found that he didn’t particularly want to anyway. He didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about Draco Malfoy. Harry was warm next to him, his breath tea-sweet , and Neville pulled him closer to get a taste of it, groaning into the wet heat of Harry’s mouth.

They ground against each other, and when Neville scraped his teeth along Harry’s neck, Harry leaned back to give him better access, didn’t complain when Neville sucked a bruise in a spot that would definitely show above his collar the next day. Neville was rougher with Harry than he normally was, pushing in with minimal prep; there was something a bit wild about it all, but it felt right. It soothed the jagged parts of Neville that felt threatened and territorial and as he came closer to release, he tugged Harry’s hair to get his attention and growled, “You’re mine,” as his thrusts became erratic.

“Yours. All yours,” Harry moaned back, and it pushed them both over the edge, together.

They laid in a sticky, sweaty mess afterwards, and Neville began to second-guess himself, until-

“Fuck, Nev. That was fucking hot. Remind me to let Malfoy rile you up more often!” Harry finally chuckled as he reached for his wand to clean them up. Neville laughed with him, and they drifted to sleep together, content and sure of the strength of their relationship.

  
  


Despite Neville’s initial skepticism, the three of them soon settled into a routine. Neville had never thought he’d find Malfoy’s presence comforting, but it was. Neville found that he liked the extra company, liked hearing Harry and Malfoy bicker constantly, liked being able to talk to Malfoy about the genetic structure of herbs from Amazonian Savannas and be answered with words that included “genotype” and “phenotype” and “deoxyribonucleic acid”. Neville and Harry talked about lots of things, like recipes and television shows, and Neville genuinely enjoyed listening to Harry talk about Quidditch, but he would never feel the passion that Malfoy obviously felt about different tactics and maneuvers. Neville was surprised, but the three of them fit well together, like puzzle pieces that looked like they’d never belong, but clicked together perfectly when you tried them.

Neville thought that maybe he should feel nervous about leaving Malfoy and Harry alone for a week, that perhaps their peaceful existence might blow up, or worse, they’d get along _too_ well and leave Neville in the dust, but as he shouldered his duffel bag and pushed Harry against the counter to snog him fiercely, he felt nothing but trust. He trusted Harry. He’d seen the way Harry’s eyes sometimes caught on Malfoy’s arse, caught Malfoy glancing away from Harry’s muscular shoulders before, but he knew that Harry wouldn’t throw what they had away on a quick shag and he even trusted Malfoy to recognize that what Neville and Harry had was sacred.

Neville teased Harry with a quick palm to the front of his trousers, before pulling away.

“I’ll be back in a week. I love you. For Merlin’s sake, be safe while I’m gone.” Neville softened his warning with a chaste kiss to the side of Harry’s mouth.

“I’ll try,” Harry said, smiling a bit wryly. “I love you too. Will you Floo call me when you get there?”  
“Of course,” Neville reassured.

There was one more kiss, and then Neville had to leave, off to Peru for a week. Neville was halfway down the stairs of their flat when he heard the “WAIT!” and paused on the landing, Malfoy thundering down the stairs to catch up.

“Just...wanted to say…” Malfoy was slightly out of breath from the chase, and Neville stared at a soft piece of blond hair that fell into his face, blowing slightly with each little pant, “I hope you have a good trip!”

Malfoy threw himself a bit awkwardly at Neville, who had to drop his duffle to the landing floor to catch him. Malfoy’s body was warm, his hug solid, and there was an extra squeeze before he let go.

“I’m just saying,” Malfoy sniffed, in his poshest voice, as he folded his arms tightly, “that if you get yourself eaten by an anaconda, Harry will be inconsolable and I’ll have to deal with it, so I certainly hope you are paying attention to your surroundings.”

“Well, I’m not really doing field work. It’s just a conference in a hotel, so I think I’ll be safe from anacondas, but I’ll keep an eye out,” Neville replied, bemusedly. He glanced at his watch. “Was there anything else? I’ve really got to go, or else I’ll miss my portkey.”

“Nothing else. Go on! Hurry up! Get out of here!” Malfoy followed him down the rest of the stairs, flapping his hands to hurry Neville along and Neville laughed the whole way.

There was still a smile on his face when he arrived in the South American humidity. The heat made the conference feel long, and no amount of cooling charms seemed to make a dent in it. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he was back in the cool drizzle of London, his brain still sluggish from a week of processing new information.

He smiled to see their flat, Harry’s shoes haphazardly piled by the door and Malfoy’s cloak hung neatly. It was late, the time difference making him arrive home in the middle of the night. He could hear the hum of the muggle refrigerator, could feel the buzz of Harry’s wards protecting them in the quiet night.

He dropped his duffel near the washer, too tired to try and start a load, and let a warm shower relax his body as he washed the grime of travel off of himself. He slipped on boxers, excited to slide into bed next to Harry, but when he reached their room, he was vaguely surprised to see Malfoy curled around Harry. He paused in the doorway, his tired brain puzzling it out. The door creaked slightly, and Malfoy’s bright blond head stirred. He blinked at Neville, then slipped out of bed and met Neville at the door. Malfoy was fully clothed in the most ridiculous pajamas; there were buttons everywhere.

“Sorry, he was screaming again. I think he had a nightmare, but he didn’t want to talk about it,” Malfoy whispered, quietly, and when he turned his head to glance at Harry, Neville missed some of his words until he turned back, “shaking, but he finally went back to sleep.”

Malfoy looked nervous, like Neville might punch him at any moment. Neville wondered if it should bother him, finding his boyfriend cuddled up with the man who had once taunted them both, the man that he sometimes caught his boyfriend looking at with a hint of lust, but, oddly, he found it didn’t. He mostly just felt relieved that Malfoy had taken care of Harry while he’d been gone. It had been such a long time since Harry’d had a nightmare that they hadn’t even considered that Neville’s leaving for a week might bring them back.

Neville didn’t punch Malfoy. He just clasped Malfoy’s shoulder, and mumbled a soft, “Thanks, mate.” For some inexplicable reason, there were buttons on Malfoy’s shoulders.

“You’re welcome,” Malfoy whispered back. He looked young in the moonlight, his hair sleep-mussed and his whole demeanor soft and sleepy, the nerves of the moment before easing away now that he saw Neville wasn’t angry. Malfoy stepped past him into the hall, toward his own bedroom, then caught Neville’s wrist softly, his thumb gently caressing the inside of Neville’s wrist. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you,” Malfoy whispered, so quietly that Neville barely caught it, then Malfoy fled down the hall and shut his door behind him.

Harry was warm and soft in their bed when Neville slid in beside him. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s middle and Harry seemed to relax into Neville’s embrace. Neville expected to fall straight to sleep, but his mind was very awake. He blamed it on the time change, but couldn’t stop thinking of Draco Malfoy, warm in this exact spot of Neville’s bed, soft in the moonlight. Draco Malfoy, who had missed Neville.

  
  


Neville blinked, and suddenly Draco had been living with them for six months. When Harry tentatively broached the subject of if Neville wanted Draco to move out now, or if their living situation was still going well, Neville felt an inexplicable shock of panic at the thought of Draco leaving. Neville didn’t want to imagine their flat without Draco’s fussy presence — his cashmere sweaters hung to dry everywhere around the apartment when he did laundry because a drying charm would loosen the knit, his piles of books all over the living room because that’s where the natural light was best in the mornings, his reading glasses that he insisted he didn’t _actually need_ forgotten on the kitchen counter by a new pudding recipe he wanted Harry to try to make. Neville wasn’t sure when exactly Draco Malfoy became part of his family — perhaps sometime between the first disastrous dinner and the night he held Harry in Neville’s stead — but Neville knew he didn’t want Draco to move out.

They hosted a game night at their apartment, and Draco had asked, hesitantly, if he could invite Blaise and Pansy in addition to the usual Gryffindor gang. They’d stood awkwardly in the corner for a moment, but soon Blaise turned on the classic Zabini charm and Ginny’s robust laughter filled the kitchen. It took longer for Pansy to warm up, but Luna trapped her in a bizarre conversation about the magical properties of deep-sea creatures and then suddenly Pansy was playing a drinking game with Dean and Seamus, outdrinking them both.

Neville felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and Ron offered him a new drink. The only people still playing games were Harry and Hermione, both pink-cheeked and tipsy, overly cautious as they pulled wooden blocks out of a tower called ‘Jenga’, Draco taunting and cheering them both on in turns.

“Does it bother you? The way they look at each other?” Ron asked, voice low in the kitchen when Neville went to get a glass of water.

“Nah. They’d be fucking hot together,” Neville said before thinking, making Ron choke on the drink he’d just taken a swallow of.

“Circe! Warn a bloke, Nev!” Ron chuckled and ambled off to grope Hermione’s arse, but Neville’s drunken mind kept thinking about it the rest of the night. About Harry’s red lips pressed against Draco’s pink ones, Harry’s curly head tucked close into Draco’s neck, lithe and muscled limbs pulling and pushing against each other. Neville had to adjust himself, tried to hide his enjoyment of that idea, but Harry still noticed, and his eyes were mischievous and mirthful for the rest of the evening.

Finally, everyone had left, and Draco had sauntered down the hall towards his room. Harry pushed Neville up against the door after they closed it behind Dean and Seamus.

“Wanna tell me what had you all hot and bothered earlier?” Harry’s breath was warm and slightly boozy; it tickled Neville’s ear.

“Ron asked...” Neville trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

“Ron asked?” Harry prompted, his hips pushing his erection into Neville’s. It turned Neville on even further. They hadn’t done anything more than kiss in shared spaces since Draco had moved in, and now Harry was practically dry humping him in their living room. Draco could walk in at any moment and see them.

That thought pushed Neville to use some of his Gryffindor bravery to confess. “Ron asked if it bothered me, the way you and Draco sometimes eye-fuck each other.”

Harry’s hips stilled. He looked stricken. “What?”

Neville’s hips bucked, chasing the friction that was lost, and he leaned in to nose at Harry’s jaw, and smoothed a hand down Harry’s back to his ass, to press their hips together. “It doesn’t bother me. I know you love me, even if you want to shag him too.”

“I don’t-” Harry started to protest, but Neville pushed his tongue into Harry’s mouth and the rest was lost. Neville knew he was right about this, even if he hadn’t let himself think about it before tonight.

“You do. It’s alright. It doesn’t change our love. It’s just…” Neville’s mind was hazy with alcohol and lust and it was hard to find the right word. “It’s just more.” Harry was still stiff in his arms, and Neville reached under his shirt to twist a nipple, making Harry’s hips buck slightly, but he wasn’t any more relaxed.

“Harry, love. It’s alright. He’s lovely. It doesn’t bother me. It’s hot, the way you two dance around each other.” Neville reassured him, and slowly Harry began to melt into him. “That’s why I was- what’d you call it?- ‘hot and bothered’. I couldn’t stop thinking about you two together.”

“Oh, fuck,” Harry whimpered against Neville’s collar bone and their hips picked up speed. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Neville continued as his hand slipped down to unbutton Harry’s jeans.

“ _Yes,_ ” Harry whispered hoarsely, and it made everything seem that much more forbidden.

Neville wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock and began to gently tug. “How would it work? Would he get on his knees for you? That’d be something to see, that sharp tongue of his, busy.” Harry groaned into Neville’s neck. Neville pulled his hand away and Harry began to protest. “Spit,” Neville commanded and Harry obeyed. Neville resumed his earlier pace, but it was smoother now.

“He wouldn’t- ah, he wouldn’t get on his knees.”

Neville understood. “Oh sweetheart, are you trying to tell me that _you’d_ be on _your_ knees for him?” His hand picked up the pace and Harry shuddered, trying to hold back but Neville didn’t relent, adding a small twist as his palm reached the head of Harry’s cock before it slid back down his shaft. He kissed Harry, swallowed his moans as he came all over Neville’s hand. Harry rested his head against Neville’s collarbone for a moment, and once he’d caught his breath Neville kissed his temple, then whispered, “Show me.”

“Show you?” Harry’s whisper sounded like honey, slow and sweet.

Neville pushed down on Harry’s shoulder with his clean hand, fumbling at his own jeans with his dirty one. “Show me how you’d get on your knees for him.”

Harry’s hands replaced Neville’s at his jeans, and Neville’s cock sprung from his pants eagerly when Harry tugged them down slightly. Neville’s eyes fluttered shut when Harry kissed and licked around the tip, his tongue teasing at Neville’s foreskin before he mouthed at the base of Neville’s shaft, then licked his way back up to the top. Neville’s clean hand tugged gently at Harry’s hair, and he whimpered. Neville looked down at him as he began to work Neville’s cock into his mouth, bobbing up and down on it.

“Oh, Harry,” Neville moaned as his cock was sucked further into the wet heat of Harry’s mouth, “You look so good like this.” Neville used his thumb to trace Harry’s lips. “I bet he’d like it too, seeing your mouth around his cock, seeing the Saviour of the Wizarding World on his knees.” Harry came back to the tip and flicked his tongue there before swallowing Neville back down. “Would you let me watch him fuck your mouth?” Harry groaned at the thought, and the vibration combined with the mental image of Harry knelt in front of Draco, with Draco’s cock in his mouth sent Neville over the edge, spilling down Harry’s throat.

They sniggered as they cleaned themselves up enough to stumble to the bathroom, where Draco’s citrus scent lingered and turned them both on again.They grinned guiltily at each other as they used a small dab of Draco’s fancy shampoo to pull each other off again, both shivering and hissing at the oversensitive feel of their second orgasms.

Neville used Draco’s shampoo to rub gentle circles into suds on Harry’s scalp, smoothed the soap down the lines of his chest, savoring the way Draco’s scent felt hot and forbidden all over Harry.

Eventually, they collapsed into bed, wrung out but sated. Harry curled close, and Neville tucked Harry into his chest, enjoying the soft patterns that Harry drew with his calloused fingertips. Neville had almost drifted off to sleep, when Harry spoke softly.

“Did you mean it? That it doesn’t bother you if I’m a bit in love with him too?” 

Neville paused before he answered, surprised by Harry's use of the word 'love' and wanting to make sure he was completely honest with both himself and Harry.

“I meant it. You have so much love, there’s plenty to share.” He tilted his head so that he could see Harry’s shy smile. Their last kiss before they fell asleep was filled with emotion from both of them.

  
  


Neville pressed the button for the lift repeatedly until the doors closed, begging for it to go faster. The elevator lurched into life and began its slow descent up to the familiar fourth floor. Usually when Neville visited St Mungos’ spell damage floor he turned left out of the lift towards the Janus Thickey ward, but today he turned right and sprinted down the hall, nearly running Hermione over in his haste.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, hoping they had a room already. If Harry was in a room, that meant he was recovering, that he’d be okay. Ron looked up and his face was drawn and pale, his freckles standing out sharply. Neville knew whatever curse that had hit Harry must be bad. He slumped into a chair next to Ron, and put his face in his hands, tried to hold himself together. Hermione sat beside Neville and started to rub small circles on his back

“I’m sorry, Nev,” she said. “We still don’t have any information on his condition yet.”

“Where’s Draco?” Neville asked. He needed Draco with him right now. Harry would want Draco there when he woke.

“Draco?” Hermione echoed, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, Draco needs to be here.” Neville didn’t have the words to explain what Draco meant to Harry, didn’t feel like it was his place to tell Harry’s best friends about the possible change in their relationship.

Ron stood and stretched. “I’ll pop down to the basement, see if I can find the potions lab, send him up to you. I was thinking about getting everyone a spot of tea anyways.” He leaned down to give Hermione a soft kiss, and Neville had to look away. It felt like salt in the wound; his own love in critical condition.

“Do you know what happened?” Neville forced himself to sit up.

“Robards was by before you got here,” Neville shut his eyes for a moment, cursed the distance between London and his classes at Hogwarts, but Hermione was still talking so he opened them and focused on her again. “He was pretty banged up too, so they put him in a room. It was Rudolphus Lestrange. They thought they were busting a run-of-the-mill illegal artefacts ring, but when they went in, Lestrange was there. It turned into a duel; Harry was able to hit Lestrange with a powerful stunner, and they have him in custody, but whatever he got Harry with bounced off an antique silver mirror and that doubled the potency of it. They think they’ve got it contained, but they haven’t been able to lift it yet. Lestrange is in custody, but he refuses to say what spell he used. We’re not sure if it was experimental or if he’s just being a shit. They’re still working on him now.”

It was at that moment that the lift opened and Draco stepped out. He glanced at the signs, then saw Neville and headed over, his long strides purposeful. Neville was so relieved to see him, he stood up, and they hugged. It was nothing like the short hug they once shared so long ago on the stair landing, short and uncertain. Instead, it was long and tight and comforting. Neville could feel Draco trembling against him and thought _we’re in this together_.

They sat down and Hermione recounted it all again for Draco. Draco’s presence was surprisingly reassuring. Neville knew Ron and Hermione loved Harry, but it was different, the love that he and Draco had for Harry and he’d never been so glad to have someone with him. Draco’s hands were clenched so tightly on the arms of the chair that his knuckles were white and Neville wondered if there might be dents in it. He reached over and took the hand closest to him, intertwining his fingers with Draco’s and gave it a squeeze. It felt different than holding Harry’s hand. Harry’s fingers were thicker and his hands were scarred; Draco’s fingers felt slender in Neville’s hands, slight callouses from holding quills and brooms. Draco squeezed back, gently.

Ron came back with several teas levitating around him, and one sloshed onto his shoulder when he stopped abruptly at the sight of Neville and Draco’s hands, but he didn’t say anything. Draco cast a quick drying charm at Ron’s shirt and the moment of awkwardness passed.

It took hours, but finally a healer in green robes came out, told them that Harry was going to be okay and that they were moving him to a recovery room. It was still a while more before they were allowed in to see him, and when they did get in, he was asleep. Neville smoothed his unruly hair out of his face, needed to touch Harry in some manner. Ron and Hermione flitted around them, offered to bring dinner up, to stay the night. Neville accepted the dinner, but refused to leave Harry alone in the hospital.

Draco hovered awkwardly by the door, and looked shocked when Neville asked him what he wanted for dinner, as if he didn’t think he belonged in the room with Neville and Harry. He ordered a curry though, and Ron and Hermione finally left to go get it and finally it was quiet and Harry was okay and Draco was there and Neville could breathe.

Harry was on heavy pain potions and he woke groggily once after dinner, but was back under pretty quickly. Neville shouted down Ron and Hermione’s offers to stay the night, but at that point he didn’t really want them there anymore. He just wanted to lie down on the small cramped couch and watch Harry breathe. Draco was the only one who seemed to sense Neville’s discomfort, and Neville watched in awe as Draco tactfully suggested that they go home and come back later in the morning when Harry would be awake. Draco even walked them out, graciously.

Neville wasn’t surprised when Draco was back; he hadn’t said goodbye to Harry yet but he was surprised and touched to see that Draco had come back with Neville’s pillow and blanket, that he must’ve apparated to their flat to bring them back for him.

There was a feeling that Neville couldn’t name, something warm and right in his chest as he watched as Draco held Harry’s hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it before he tucked it back against Harry’s side. Draco fussed with the blankets, tugged them up slightly and then smoothed them back out. Neville thought of a little Harry, unloved and shoved in a cupboard, and thought that this Harry now, their Harry, deserved every bit of love and affection they could give to him. He watched Draco watch Harry, watched Harry’s chest rise and fall, and fought his drooping eyelids.

Draco shifted and turned, waking Neville a bit. It was difficult to decipher the expression on Draco’s face; Neville wasn’t sure what the tilt of Draco’s head meant, but then Draco was in front of the small couch where Neville crammed his body, both too long and too wide for the small space, and now Draco’s expression was the same tender one that he’d had for Harry and Neville was too tired to try to understand it. Draco’s fingers were soft on his cheek and Neville wasn’t sure if he leaned into it or if he just blinked sleepily. He was so tired, the fear and worry of the day having caught up with him. Draco looked tired too, dark smudges under his eyes.

“I’ll be back, early in the morning,” Draco said as he started to pull away.

Neville caught his hand. “You can stay, if you want,” he whispered and Draco paused.

“You need some alone time with him, without me intruding,” Draco protested and started to pull away, but Neville held tight.

“You’re not intruding.” Draco’s sharp grey eyes studied Neville, and Neville wanted to reassure him more but he truly could not keep his eyes open, felt as if someone had given him a sleeping potion. He squeezed Draco’s hand once more before letting his eyes finally close, but he listened to Draco pull the uncomfortable chair in the corner over, listened to the soft beeps of monitoring spells on Harry, and then finally, he stretched out, rolled over and went blissfully under.

Neville slept fitfully, woke every couple hours when one of the medi-witches came to check on Harry, but was tired enough that he fell back asleep quickly. It was still early when a whispered argument woke him, and he sat up and stretched, vaguely surprised that his back didn’t hurt from the small couch. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and the voices quieted as he gained his bearings. Draco must’ve enlarged the couch for Neville sometime last night, and Neville was very grateful for it; he was not yet thirty, but he could already tell that his body wasn’t as young as it used to be. He took in the room, so early it was bathed in only the palest of light, noted Harry’s stormy expression, Draco’s whole body tense in his chair.

“What’s wrong?” Neville asked, his voice gravelly from sleep. Harry and Draco glared at each other, neither responding, so Neville cleared his throat and asked again, a bit more firmly this time. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Harry mumbled at the same time Draco muttered, “Bloody stubborn prat.” 

Neville sighed, and waited to see who would break first. He wasn’t particularly surprised when it was Draco; Harry was much better at brooding in silence.

“He thinks he’s coming home today and when I said that we would wait to see what the healer said he insisted-”

“It’s no big deal, Draco! This happens about every six months! I’m an auror-”

“-would just have _you_ sign him out-”

“-back on my feet in no time-”

Neville rubbed his temples. It was too early for this argument. “Enough! Let’s just hear what the healer has to say and go from there!”

There was a small cough from the doorway, and all three of them turned to see a healer, standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking very put out to be in the middle of this conversation.

Neville waited patiently as the healer ran some diagnostic spells and Draco asked question after question; Harry’s scowl continued to grow deeper.

“You’re healing along nicely!” the healer chirped and Harry looked triumphant, but it was momentary. “Should be home in a couple days!” The room immediately erupted into chaos again. The healer backed out quietly and shut the door. Neville didn’t blame her; he wanted to do the same.

“Absolutely not coming home tod-”

“Can’t imprison me here for a we-”

“I refuse to sign you out earl-”  
“Neville will do it! He’s done it before!” Harry obviously felt that he’d just played his trump card, outwitted Draco. He and Draco might have some kind of undefined relationship, or the possibility of something in the future, but Harry and Neville were a known element. Harry was right; Neville had signed him out of hospital against medical advice before. It’d made him nervous, and he hadn’t liked doing it, but he also didn’t like telling Harry what to do (except in bed that one time, and while they always meant to try it again it hadn’t happened yet) so he’d gone ahead and signed Harry out against his better judgement.

Draco assessed Neville, pinned him in place with his quicksilver eyes, and Neville felt laid bare before him — his exhaustion and exasperation apparent.

“You are not leaving the hospital until the healer says you’re free to go. You need medical expertise, which neither Neville nor I can give to you and it’s unfair of you to ask that of us. We’ll be here every day to support you, but you’re not coming home yet and that’s final.” Draco’s tone was so calm and reasonable that Harry was shocked into silence, though not for long.

He turned furiously to Neville, but Draco was still holding his gaze and Neville nodded. He felt a bit guilty that they ganged up on Harry, but mostly he felt relieved. He’d never liked taking care of Harry when he was ill or injured; Harry was too self-sufficient to let Neville actually care for him and it always made Neville worry that Harry would just make the injury worse.

Harry was furious. He refused to speak to either of them and when Ron and Hermione showed up with breakfast, Neville and Draco took the opportunity to go home to shower and nap. 

Ron was already in the room, listening sympathetically as Harry shared the injustice of the situation, but Hermione grabbed Neville’s wrist on his way out, stopped him briefly, having caught the gist of Harry’s complaint enough to know what’s happened. “You’re doing the right thing, you know,” she reassured him. He nodded, miserably, but it was still hard to actually leave his boyfriend in the hospital.

The ride down the hospital lift was quiet, both Neville and Draco tense. They walked out together, and Neville wasn’t quite sure what made him offer it — perhaps that both he and Draco were on the same side here, unified in loving Harry even if he wasn’t happy with them right now — but Neville held out his hand for side-along and Draco looked surprised and uncertain, but still he accepted, his hand cool in Neville’s, and they apparated home together.

Draco took the first shower while Neville made them eggs. They both ate quickly, then Neville took a shower while Draco headed off to bed. They were both exhausted from sleeping in the hospital, from the early morning argument. Finally clean, Neville was ready to collapse into bed himself when he heard a small whimper from Draco’s room. The door was cracked, so he peeked inside and heard it again. He padded into Draco’s room, felt a bit like he was trespassing, and gently shook Draco’s shoulder until he woke. His job done, he turned to leave, but felt Draco’s long fingers encircle his wrist. He turned, and when Draco lifted the covers, it felt natural to slide in next to him, to wrap his arms around him. Draco’s fine, silky hair tickled Neville’s nose, and despite being broader than Harry’s, his shoulders felt just as right in Neville’s arms. Draco’s breathing evened out again, and Neville thought he’d fallen back asleep until the other man spoke.

“I dreamed Vol- _he_ was back, that he had everyone hostage unless I did a task for him. And I was trying, I hated myself, but I was trying because I was so desperate to save you all, but it didn’t matter. He was going to kill you and Harry and my mother and Pansy and Blaise anyways just because he enjoyed my pain.” Draco heaved a big, hiccupy breath and Neville took the opportunity to squeeze Draco a little closer to him, stroked a hand through his hair until Draco’s body was relaxed. Draco wiggled around to face Neville, his bum brushed against Neville’s cock and Neville forced himself to think of Snape in a vulture hat to fight off his erection. Face to face, Draco looked like a wreck. He hadn’t actually cried, but his face was still red and blotchy, and his hair had dried at odd angles.

Suddenly, Draco leaned forward, pressed his lips to Neville’s, soft and dry - much softer than Harry’s, whose lips were constantly chapped. It wasn’t much more than a peck but the kiss was still firm. Neville’s brain short-circuited until Draco pulled back slightly, looking uncertain and shy.

“Why?” was all that Neville could think to ask. He understood why Draco would want Harry, why Harry would want Draco. Harry was incredible, strong muscles and tanned skin, vibrant and full of sarcasm. Draco was beautiful, delicate features and lithe limbs, dry wit and intelligence.

“Why?” Draco repeated, looking confused.

“Yeah, why would you kiss me? You don’t have to convince me of anything. I already told Harry it was fine if he was with you too, I don’t mind-”

“This isn’t about Harry,” Draco started, then reconsidered. “Well, maybe a bit about Harry, but not entirely. I kissed you because I love _you_ , Nev.” The nickname sounded unfamiliar in Draco’s posh accent, but it was said with such fondness that Neville shivered at the intimacy of it.

“Me?” Neville said in a small voice, earnestly curious, “Why would you love me?” Neville didn’t understand how someone could look at him and Harry and not want Harry instead. Neville wanted Harry instead.

Draco chose his words carefully, and Neville appreciated that; he needed Draco to be careful with his heart right now because it felt so fragile. “I love you because I love Harry, but also, I love Harry because I love you. Because you’re a part of him and he’s a part of you and you’re both a part of me. But most of all, I love you because you’re funny and kind and so goddamn smart. I love you because you love to cook us dinner and because you read scientific journals. I love you because you’re you and I don’t know that there’s any better reason for love besides that.” Draco swallowed, and Neville could see how vulnerable he had just made himself, but Neville felt vulnerable too, unsure of how to respond. It had never occurred to him that Draco might love him too, and if anyone had tried to tell Neville so he would’ve laughed them off. But here was Draco Malfoy — Draco Malfoy who had once been a bully and a bigot but had worked to unlearn his prejudice, had worked to learn how to be kind (Neville knew kindness was not instinctual to Draco like it was to Harry, it was considered and given each time) — laying his heart bare for Neville and Neville thought he had never seen Draco as clearly as he did in that moment.

“I need time to process this. It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. I just...Harry’s in the hospital and I never thought- never considered- I just need time.” 

Draco nodded, and it was fascinating to see him tuck the emotions away behind a carefully blank mask. “I understand. Of course, I understand. It’s a lot, and you’d need to talk with Harry. Of course, take all the time you need. Just…think about it.”

Neville nodded slowly. “I will,” he promised. He thought he might think of nothing else. “Do you want me to go back to my own bed to nap now?” Neville shuffled a little, put a bit of space between his body and Draco’s.

“Circe, no! Stay, please?” Draco was so earnest, and Neville settled back in, their limbs arranged around each other and Neville was sure he’d never be able to sleep now, but sleep he did.

It wasn’t a very long nap, but the nap and most of all the shower, had Neville feeling much more like himself. Draco looked better when they woke, his hair still sticking up at wild angles, but his eyes less puffy.

Neville felt trepidation as he returned to the hospital; he knew Harry would still be upset with them. He and Harry didn’t often argue, but when they did Harry was stubborn. When they finally made it up to the fourth floor, Draco stepped out of the lift and turned right, towards Harry’s room.

Neville hesitated for just a moment, then made up his mind. He caught Draco’s hand, ignored his look of surprise, and gently tugged him left. This part of the floor was kept under wards to keep patients from wandering off, and Neville shivered slightly, as he always did, when he passed through the wards.

Draco looked confused and wary, but Neville knew this part of the floor well, had been coming here for as long as he could remember. It was early afternoon, and Neville found his parents sitting in a small garden, enjoying the sunshine together.

“Mum...Dad?” Neville’s mum looked up, her wispy hair pulled back by a clip and Neville made a mental note to tell the healers that he appreciated the effort. It made her look a bit younger, and the sunlight made her face fuller. Neville let go of Draco’s hand and leaned down to kiss them both. His mother followed his movement, but his father still watched the clouds. That was alright though. Neville glanced up and briefly wondered what his father saw. He glanced at Draco and motioned for him to step forward. Neville motioned for Draco to join him, wasn’t sure what Draco was thinking - he was wearing his emotionless mask again.

“Mum, I want you to meet someone. This is Draco. He’s very important to me; part of my family,” Draco shot Neville a quick look, but Neville meant every word. Even if nothing else ever happened between him and Draco, they would always be connected.

Draco stepped forward, ever the gentleman. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Longbottom, Mrs. Longbottom,” he murmured. He started to reach out to shake their hands, but seemed to realize that Neville’s parents wouldn’t be shaking hands so he let it drop and seemed to search for something to say.

“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Draco gently sat beside Neville’s dad and softly began to prattle on about the weather, the clouds, the sun, if there’d be rain. Neville sat next to his mum and just held her hand. He squeezed, and she squeezed back. Neville’s dad pointed at a cloud, and Neville closed his eyes to listen to Draco make up stories about the shapes in the sky.

A light breeze blew in, and Neville helped his mum button her sweater, her hands gnarled and shaky where his were firm and steady. Finally, he stood, feeling a bit more relaxed after seeing his parents. Draco gave Neville’s father an awkward little pat on the shoulder, and stood with him. Neville hugged both his parents, and then headed for the door. Neville turned around, expecting Draco to be right behind him, and was surprised to see him leaning down towards Neville’s mum. Her hand fumbled in her sweater pocket for a moment, then she pulled out a bubble gum wrapper and pressed it into Draco’s hand. Neville thought he might cry as he watched Draco accept the wrapper as if it were treasure; his heart swelled as Draco’s long fingers closed over the wrapper and felt as if it would burst when he heard Draco murmur a sincere “Thank you.”

Draco joined him at the door, and Neville didn’t hesitate to reach for his empty hand. They walked quietly out of the wards, and down the hall to Harry’s room.

“Thank you,” Draco said to Neville, his eyes serious. “Thank you for introducing me.”

Neville nodded, shyly. “Ready to face Harry?” he asked.

“Circe, no. But here we go anyways,” Draco said, and tugged Neville into the room.

Neville could tell that Harry noticed their joined hands, but he was still committed to giving them the cold shoulder, so he said nothing, determinedly continuing to read the quidditch magazine that Ron had brought him. Hermione gave them a curious look, but didn’t ask and Ron was currently working his way through a pudding. When Ron had finished, he and Hermione said their good-byes and left, the room silent at the loss of Ron’s chewing.

Harry huffed for the rest of the afternoon, but there was no more yelling and Neville knew they had made the right decision when Harry accepted the extra-strong dose of pain potion, wincing slightly as he straightened himself in bed to take it. He dozed in and out in the evening, his body exhausted from healing itself.

When the healer made Harry actually stand up and walk himself to the loo, he was wobbly and Neville could tell he was holding back groaning from pain. Draco opened his mouth to say something, and Neville shot him a look - the last thing Draco needed to say right now was _I told you so._ Draco snapped his mouth shut and went back to reading his book, a muggle novel that Hermione had brought for him.

The evening potions made Harry a bit loopy, and he forgot his bad mood and giggled at most anything before becoming extremely drowsy. He let Neville and Draco tuck him into bed, something Neville was sure he wouldn’t have allowed if he’d remembered their betrayal from earlier that morning. Draco had decided to go home tonight, get the apartment set up for Harry to come home, and Neville tried to give them a bit of privacy as Draco said good-bye, pressing a tender kiss to Harry’s temple and whispering something in his ear. Then Draco leaned over Neville’s chair, pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered “Thanks for taking care of him. I had a good day with you today. See you tomorrow.” His breath was warm in Neville’s ear and sent tingles down his spine, but then Draco was gone, back to their home.

Neville took his time fussing over Harry. He tugged on Harry’s blanket, then fluffed the pillows, smoothed a hand through his hair. Harry was already asleep, his mouth hanging open and a small spot of drool on the pillow. Finally there was nothing else to do except go to bed himself. Neville transfigured the small couch into something larger, but he’d never been great at transfiguration and belatedly wished he had used an enlargement charm instead. It was slightly lumpy, but Neville knew he would toss and turn even at home. He missed the warm press of Harry next to him, and felt lonely even though Harry was just across the room.

He didn’t sleep well, and woke early, expecting to see Harry still asleep but Harry was awake, a soft look on his face as he watched Neville yawn and stretch.

“Hey, how’re ya feeling?” Neville asked, cautiously.

“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse. At least I still have all the bones in my right arm,” Harry joked and Neville smiled. “Nev, I’m sorry.”

Harry looked like he had more to say, so Neville waited patiently, but after a while of Harry opening and closing his mouth he gently prodded, “Did Hermione talk some sense into you?”

Harry looked down, abashed. “She certainly had some things to say, but actually it was Draco’s comment about how it was unfair of me to put you in that position. I know I’m not...the easiest to take care of- '' Neville snorted and even Harry grinned, his mischievous grin that Neville loved so much. “But you always do. My aunt and uncle…” Harry’s eyes closed and Neville knew how much it cost him to talk about this, to be so vulnerable right now, but he continued to wait because he also knew how important it was for Harry to acknowledge his past. “They always made me feel bad if I was hurt or sick. So being in the hospital makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. I know that I’m not, but I still feel-” Harry broke off here, rubbing at his neck like he always did when he was upset and Neville stood and hugged him, gently so as to not hurt him. Harry was stiff for a moment, but gradually relaxed into Neville. Neville kissed the top of his head, his hair more wild than usual, unwashed and sweaty from being ill.

“I love you,” Neville said simply.

“I love you too.”

All was forgiven.

They joked and laughed about what Harry could remember from his potion high the night before, and when Draco arrived, looking wrong-footed and uncertain at finding a smiling Harry instead of a brooding, grumpy one, Neville headed out to get them all tea and toast. When he came back, Draco and Harry’s heads were bent together, looking serious, but Harry whispered something and Draco burst out laughing, undignified and loud and they all smiled at each other over breakfast.

Draco handled the discharge paperwork so Neville could go home to shower. It was a wonderful relief to be home, but even better to have both Draco and Harry home safe with him. They set Harry up on the couch so he could watch his “cars-toons” on the muggle television. Neville and Draco danced around each other in the kitchen, both eager to show Harry how loved he was. Neville made sandwiches while Draco arranged a tray, and when Neville caught Draco furtively setting a charm on the couch to alarm him if Harry tried to get up without assistance (something that Neville knew would happen soon, no matter how repentant Harry might’ve been at the hospital), it was too much. Neville’s heart felt like it might burst out of his chest with how much he loved the two of them. His stubborn Harry, his clever Draco.

Draco realized he'd been caught and looked guilty, as if he expected Neville to reprimand him, but Neville just grinned and reeled him in for a kiss. It was awkward at first, Draco’s shock holding him still, but after a moment he responded in kind, his lips firm and his mouth hot when Neville slipped his tongue inside.

They both startled when Harry cleared his throat from the doorway, and realized that both of them had been so distracted they hadn’t heard Draco’s charm go off. Harry’s eyes were bright, and Neville liked the way they followed the lines where Draco’s body is pressed into his own. 

Draco pulled away and immediately scolded him. “You’re not supposed to be walking without assistance! What if you’d fallen?”

“Would’ve been worth it for that lovely show,” Harry snarked back, and suddenly they were off, a back and forth of sarcasm and wit that made Neville smile.

“Your healer said no strenuous activity for another week! I’m quite certain whatever dirty fantasies you have in your mind will be strenuous,” Draco chided Harry; Harry smirked. Draco settled Harry back on the couch and muttered all the way down the hall as he went to fetch Harry yet another blanket and Harry laughed and caught Neville’s eye.

“Guess I’m not the only one a bit in love with him?”

Neville chuckled with him, and bent to kiss Harry. He began to grow hard thinking about how Harry might be able to taste Draco on Neville’s tongue but soon Draco was back. He grumbled at Harry again about “strenuous activity”and chastised Neville for encouraging him.

They went back to the kitchen to grab the tray and lunch and Draco stopped Neville on the threshold, his whole face hopeful, but his shoulders hunched as if he'd prepared himself for bad news.

“Was that kiss...was it a yes?” Draco asked.

Neville leaned over, kissed him again, soft and sweet. “Yes.” Another kiss to seal it.

Draco was alight with it, and Neville didn’t know how he’d never noticed it before. Draco Malfoy loved him, carried a love for Neville with him everywhere he went. It was obvious now and Neville wanted to bask in it.

“Harry!” Draco crowed, “Harry, he said yes!” He practically ran out of the kitchen, and Neville followed, carefully bringing Harry’s lunch tray with him, and smiled when he heard Harry’s responding cheer.

They might not have everything figured out yet, but they all had each other and to Neville that seemed like more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! [Find me on tumblr @kittycargo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kittycargo/blog/kittycargo)


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